


To Be or Not To Be

by Bloody_Jeans



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Artist Clarke, Bad Puns, Bellamy Has Feelings, F/M, Modern Setting Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin, Partial Nudity, Pining Bellamy, Seasons 2 and 3 are a cosmic prank, Sexual Humor, Shopping Malls, Sort of Underage, Teen Angst, Teen Clarke, They have to be, Tumblr Prompt, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, not really - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-03
Updated: 2017-01-03
Packaged: 2018-09-14 14:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9185026
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloody_Jeans/pseuds/Bloody_Jeans
Summary: Two-be, obviously.Based off this Tumblr prompt: "You tried on a shirt that was too small in the store I work the changing rooms at, and I had to help you out of it, and now we're making small talk. AU".  Bellarke.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Based off this Tumblr prompt: "You tried on a shirt that was too small in the store I work the changing rooms at, and I had to help you out of it, and now we're making small talk. AU". Bellarke. Enjoy!

The bell above the door rang as Clarke stepped in and glanced around in curiosity. This was her first time inside the mall shop, and so far it looked pretty welcoming.

"Welcome to Two-be," a male voice greeted her. "Can I help you?"

_Well, scratch that thought._

Clarke froze, immediately recognizing the familiar, toneless deep voice and the broad back facing her as he lifted boxes on a high shelf using tanned, muscular arms. Just her type if it wasn't for the fact of who he was.

Her voice cracked as she called out, "No, I'm good." Thankfully, he didn't seem to take much notice of her.

What in the hell was Bellamy Blake doing in a teen boutique? 

The blonde's stomach tumbled as she ducked behind a rack of simple pink shirts just as her sworn enemy turned to look at the new customer.

"You sure?" Bellamy said again, brown eyes searching the store for her.

Clarke's 'positive' reply was muffled behind clothes.

Shrugging, the 24-year-old turned back to his task. 

Unfortunately, Bellamy was now working by the entrance, and Clarke couldn't get out like she really, really wanted to. Instead, she grabbed the nearest item of clothing and ducked into the fitting rooms.

Locking the door, Clarke risked a glance at the pink shirt she'd snatched off a rack. Clarke glanced at the time on her phone and shrugged.

 _Might as well_ , she thought. And then severely regretted it ten minutes later when Bellamy wandered over to the changing area.

"Anybody in here?" he asked, glancing down. A pair of striped green socks greeted him under a single booth.

"Yeah," a girl answered with a light sniffle.

_What the-?_

Bellamy frowned and knocked on the booth door with the name "Princess", the only one with feet under. "Everything okay, miss?"

"No," responded a miserable voice. "I need help," she admitted in defeat, her pride wilting with every frustrated word.

"Alright, just unlock the door and let me in," Bellamy answered charitably. "I promise I won't look more than I have to." So he still hadn't recognized her voice, huh? If she could, she would keep it that way - forever.

"Can't you bring some other, female employee?" Clarke snapped, her voice almost shrill. She did _not_ want Bellamy Blake of all people to see her like this.

Bellamy rolled his eyes on the other side of the door. "No, miss. I'm the only one working the store today, sorry."

The blonde cursed under her breath as she struggled to shove her arms back out into the sleeves. "Ugh, fine," she said and yanked the door open.

Bellamy stared. And then he burst out laughing. "You look ridiculous, Princess."

Clarke gaped at him. "Excuse me? You're supposed to help me out of this, not laugh at me!"

"S-Sorry, Princess," Bellamy gasped, covering his mouth. Taking a deep breath, he let it go and put on his kindly employee face. "Take off your shirt." He leered again.

Clarke glared at him, her eyebrow twitching, not appreciating the joke. "If I could've, do you think I would've?!"

Octavia's unfairly attractive brother, _Clarke's sworn enemy_ , shook his head again and this time actually got serious. "Okay, then. Let's get into the booth and try to take it off together. I don't think you'd appreciate someone just strolling by and seeing you like this."

Clarke huffed out a breath of relief. "Thank you," she said and stepped back. Just as Bellamy stepped in after her, she realized just how tiny it was. His chest was only inches away from her own.

Bellamy locked the door and turned around, frowning. It seemed the lack of space hadn't gone unnoticed by him either. "Alright, let's see what's wrong...," he muttered to himself, examining Clarke's uncomfortable body. 

The too-tight shirt was clenching to her annoying breasts, which also didn't go unnoticed by him, and the cuffs around the shoulders looked like they were going to rip. _Clarke should know better than to try on a shirt like that_ , he thought with a scowl. Now look at where they were.

Finally, her patience snapped. "Look, can you help me out or while I have to rip the shirt off and make you pay for it since you're being so helpful?" Bellamy raised an eyebrow.

"Calm your tits, Princess," he said, raising his hands at her indignant scoff. "Turn around. We're gonna get this off you."

Clarke couldn't resist muttering, "No duh," as she complied, lifting her arms up. 

Bellamy hesitated before shifting his hands underneath the hem of her shirt from the back and dragging it up above her shoulder blades. He dared to glance up at the mirror and met Clarke's frustrated gaze. 

Her cheeks were fire-engine red. Neither of them spoke. 

Bellamy's hand circled to the front and delicately pulled the shirt up from where it caught under her more than plump breasts. 

The fabric began to stretch uncomfortably, and now the real issue came up. Clarke popped her head out of the top hole, so the shirt only covered her shoulders and arms. 

Bellamy gritted his teeth as he rubbed his hands underneath the cloth and onto creamy smooth skin to stretch it for her. Clarke grunted as she felt the fabric loosen a bit and slid it down her arms as quickly as she could without ripping the shirt.

With a relieved groan, Clarke finally yanked the cursed shirt off and leaned against the mirror while Bellamy sorted it out. "Thank God," she said and began to turn around. 

Just as she did, her eyes met Bellamy's in the mirror again before his drifted down the glass and on an area she wasn't sure if she felt uncomfortable showing to him anymore. His pupils darkened, and his mouth tilted upwards. 

Blinking, Clarke stood still, noticing he'd been remaining quiet this whole time.

Then reality set in.

Bellamy Blake was staring at her breasts. Bellamy Blake: hated enemy, childhood bully, Octavia's annoying older brother, and an all-around Grade A douchebag.

Clarke's eyes widened, and she spun around, snatched her own sweater off the hanger, and tugged it on. Bellamy seemed to come back to himself as well as he shook his head and pulled on a smirk.

"Well, Princess, I think you might need to start watching your weight a bit more," he teased as the devious pink shirt hung from his finger.

Clarke scoffed. "And I think I'm about to gouge your eyes out if you don't shut up." The blonde gathered her purse and grabbed the shirt from Bellamy's hand without looking into his eyes. 

Yanking the door open, she stumbled out and blinked at the annoying bright light as Bellamy stepped out right after her.

A small squeak sounded from her left, and Clarke turned in surprise. A little girl was staring at them in shock while the mother glared at them with a curled lip. 

"No, it's not what you think-" Clarke began to protest. Bellamy didn't seem to care as he went to hang the shirt on the to-be-washed section.

The woman huffed and entered the next booth over with her daughter, muttering an insult under her breath. Groaning in embarrassment, Clarke covered her face with one hand.

"So, you lookin' to buy, Princess?" Bellamy finally interrupted.

The glare she shot at him then sent chills sprinting down his spine, and Bellamy shrunk back. Clarke marched out, not bothering to look at any of the other apparel as she went.

"Guess not, then...."

He watched her go, thoughts spinning as a sudden realization set in, one that had been long since due, obvious from the start, and which he could no longer just ignore.

Bellamy Blake had a crush on Clarke Griffin.

 _Well, damn_ , Bellamy thought and shrugged, making a mental note to annoy O into giving her the Princess' number later. Then he turned back to storing boxes.

**Author's Note:**

> **Epilogue:**
> 
> "So," Octavia began over lunch the next day, "any idea why my brother would be asking me for your number?"
> 
> Clarke choked on her salad.
> 
> ~*~*~*~
> 
> ... Did anyone catch my pun? Hah, hah. I'm so punny, aren't I? Hah. Yeah, I hate myself too.
> 
> Okay, bye. Don't forget to review and all that lovely stuff!
> 
> \- xoxo Jo
> 
>  
> 
> (P.S.: Should I continue or leave it off as a one-shot?)  
> (P.P.S.: Seasons 2 and 3 do not exist in my book. Ever. They have to be some sort of prank.)  
> (P.P.P.S.: No offense, but I'm serious. What the actual fuck is going on.)


End file.
